


all just fools

by tanyart



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Destiny (Video Game), Alternate Universe - Space, Gen, Immortality, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, multiple oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-02-06 01:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12806217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: “But where is your fate, and who brings it to you?”A collection of short Destiny 2 AU fics, told in a very Destiny-ish way.





	1. Ghost Fragment: Tower fall

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of a Destiny AU, focusing more on the events of Destiny 2. My previous Destiny AU roundup of fics can be found [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8376421). 
> 
> Some of the formatting is copied from the Destiny 1 grimoire cards and exotic gun lore, but the majority of it will be told in the usual third-person narrative. I plan for this to be a series of oneshots, likely not told in chronological order, focusing on different characters (though mostly Genji and McCree.) Anyway. Thanks for reading!

 

 

> TYPE: Transcript.  
>  DESCRIPTION: Conversation. PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Warlock [u.2] ASSOCIATIONS: Peregrine District; Last City, [Earth]; Amari, Ana [AKA Shrike]; Reyes, Gabriel [AKA Reaper]
> 
> //AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//
> 
> //TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS…/
> 
> [u.1:01] You can always tell the difference between the Guardians who were risen on Earth and the ones who weren’t.  
>  [u.2:01] Yeah?  
>  [u.1:02] The ones who came off-planet. You can see it. They’re always looking up at the sky a little longer. Stopping on patrols to stare out at the mountains. Breathing a little deeper if they have got the lungs.  
>  [u.2:02] Can’t blame ‘em. Risen on Earth myself and I still catch myself looking at the sunset like it’s the first goddamn time. But I think I know what you mean.  
>  [u.1:03] Do you?  
>  [u.2:03] Ever seen an off-planet Guardian fight on Earth before? For the City? I think they fall in love with it. I’ve seen it—head over heels, love at first sight, the whole deal. Something in them knows it’s special. Hits them all at once.  
>  [u.1:04] Moreso than us.  
>  [u.2:04] I suppose it’s all inate. Or do you think The Traveler makes us think so?  
>  [u.1:05] Now there’s a dangerous question, Gabriel.  
>  [u.2:05] Hah. You know me.  
>  [u.1:06] I know you. Just be careful when you go searching for the answer.

 

* * *

 

It’s not the first time Gabriel’s picked up a newly risen Guardian from another planet. It’s always an experience to watch their reactions. He had been risen on Earth himself, so he probably can’t understand it in the same way—he tries to keep this in mind when trying to drag McCree out of his ship.

Gabriel knows he’s being a little mean. It only takes an encouraging nudge to push McCree towards the door controls. He had asked if McCree wanted to land via transmat, but he figures someone like McCree would rather step down on Earth with his own two feet. Predictably, McCree had declined, sitting in the passenger hold with both hands gripped tight at his knees.

“Don’t need that over here,” Gabriel reminds, rapping his knuckles over McCree’s scuffed helmet. The leftover dust from Mars puffs in the air with each tap.

The helmet turns, breathing a little shallow over the comms. McCree’s Ghost shuts it off for him, letting his voice sound naturally through his helmet.

“Habit,” McCree says, peering out the window. “I hear the elevation is thin this high.”

Nervous. That’s the usual reaction from off-planet Guardians. Nervousness and thinly veiled excitement. Gabriel makes sure Ghost lands their ship in the hangar with a view of Russia’s mountains. That’s the usual compromise of feeling safe within the Tower’s interior and seeing what Earth has to offer. In any case, if McCree is anything like all the other Hunters Gabriel’s picked up, it’s only a matter of time before the thrill of the unknown calls out to him.

“The atmosphere isn’t going to personally come out and choke you to death. That’s a Mars thing.” Gabriel gives McCree another considering look. He shrugs. “But keep the helmet on if you want. Nothing strange about that.”

The rigid set of McCree’s shoulders relaxes by a fraction. He presses his hand over the controls and the ship’s doors open without another second of hesitation.

The cold mountain air hits Gabriel’s face, a refreshing chill sweeping into his lungs. McCree would’ve felt the same thing had he taken his own helmet off, but Gabriel knows that’s a minor detail for McCree to discover in his own time. He hops out of the ship, landing sure-footed over the hangar’s metal grating.

Meanwhile, McCree is silent beside him, turning in a small circle to look around. It’s a big change from the quick assessing glances Gabriel has seen from him before, running wild on Mars for months on end. Right now, McCree’s quiet staring is just for the sake of taking it all in—no enemies in sight to be wary of, no need to be on the lookout for resources just to survive.

Gabriel figures McCree could be here a while so he says, “I’ll be in the Hall of Guardians. Meet me there when you’re done exploring.”

He sends McCree a map file, knowing the exact moment it projects in McCree’s HUD by the way the gunslinger’s head tilts back by a margin. Gabriel checks back a laugh. McCree had the whole wasteland of Mars to wander through, and yet here the kid was, daunted by something so small as the Tower.

“You’re just leaving me? Alone?” McCree asks, confirming Gabriel’s thoughts.

“Can’t get into too much trouble, can you? If you fall off somewhere, I’m sure someone will come by to revive you,” Gabriel says. “Worst thing that can happen is walking all the way back up the Tower.”

“Uh-huh.”

“See? I’m already boring you.” Gabriel starts walking towards Tower Plaza. McCree’ll probably lose his mind from the view if his reaction in the hangar is any indication. “Have a good look around. Take your time.”

He leaves McCree lost in the company of a dozen jumpships coming in and out, noise echoing with organized chaos and the snowy mountain range shining through the hangar’s expansive opening. If McCree had called out to him, Gabriel wouldn’t have heard it, but the voicelink remains silent.

When Gabriel gets to the top of the stairs, he catches McCree at the edge of the hangar’s entrance, pulling off his helmet and letting it dangle from his fingers, bright sunlight overlaying his dusty armor.

McCree spends a long time looking out into the landscape—but he breathes, and breathes, and breathes in the air on Earth.

 

* * *

 

 

> //Whaddya mean the water just sits there? Y’all just letting it sit there? No one’s drinking it?
> 
> //You’re drinking water from the fish pond?
> 
> //Oh hell yeah, I’m guzzling that shit down. Rigged up a filtering system out of two motherfuckin’ fusion rifles and half my Ghost— _no_ , I’m not drinking from the fish pond, jackass. You think I’m some kinda idiot just ‘cause I ain’t ever seen standing water on Earth before? You’re an asshole. Sir.”
> 
> //Hah! I’m just messin’ with you. So you coming to the Hall or not?
> 
> //Just a few more minutes, alright? You know, s’far as standing water goes, it’s real pretty.
> 
> //…
> 
> //What?
> 
> //I’ll tell the Frames that. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.

 

* * *

 

 

Genji-1 cannot see the sky. He cannot see the sun or the Traveler. The clouds have been replaced by black smoke, the mountains by armed ships, the Light by an emptiness he cannot reach for.

Around him, the Tower burns. The Cabal drop pods crash into the ground, rhythmic like fiery rain. His armor is splashed with blood, cooling into flakes with the heat. Somehow he still expects the stains to clear and glitter away as revivals start to cycle in, but all the dead guardians he has come across stay dead, scattered unmoving on the ground or over debris.

Angela kneels over a warlock, head bent low. Her steady hand holds on to the body’s lifeless arm, though her shaking voice no longer sings bright like the sun.

“Why can I not resurrect them?” she asks, very soft so the sound doesn’t carry. She stares down at her cold hands, fingers curling as if to hold something that isn’t there. “Why isn’t it working?”

McCree doesn’t answer her. He only stares down the broken streets and buildings around them, Peacekeeper held tight in his hand. His silence is deafening.

Genji stands to the side in between them. His heart can no longer pound inside his chest, but he can almost recall the feeling as the ground thuds beneath their feet. This is the fourth guardian Angela has attempted to revive. She would have accepted it sooner, had it not been for the dead warlock’s flickering Ghost, crying out static as it hovers over its guardian.

Genji’s own Ghost lingers above his shoulder, closer than usual and quieter as well. It stares at the other crying Ghost on the floor then shimmers out of sight into its standby state. A brief pulse of Light washes inside Genji, waning in strength but it feels like a touch of reassurance. His Ghost is afraid.

Genji drops into a crouch, taking Angela’s wrist away. He can feel the Light seeping from her as she tries to pour it back into the dead warlock’s Ghost. The flow abruptly stops, cut off by his own intervention. Angela’s jaw tightens, but she lowers her hands.

“Your guardian is dead,” he tells the warlock’s Ghost. “We cannot bring them back. How did they die?”

“Protecting the City, and its people,” the Ghost replies, voice gone mechanical. “A squadron of Legionaries from the northern part of the Tower.”

It sends a recording to their channel, but Genji clears it from his HUD before the video can play. There is no time to watch it, and Genji thinks he may not want to in any case. He leans closer to the Ghost, fingers lifting to skirt the outer periphery of its faded glow to echo a revival that he can no longer afford to give.

“If there is any Light left in you, find those left behind,” Genji says. “Lead them away from here. The Tower is lost.”

As soon as he says the words, McCree abruptly turns to him. There is something angry in the way he steps forward, as if he wants to argue with Genji, but he glances at the Ghost without its guardian and his mouth presses into a thin line. McCree turns around, back to watching the corridors.

And then, like the Tower, Genji can see another part of him come to an end. He feels his shoulders tense, nerves prickling and urging him to move, but he watches the Ghost bob in the air, swaying once, and then it flickers, gone.

In the distance, Genji can hear the steady marching of Cabal steps. Angela stands first, holding out her hand for him. By the time Genji gets to his feet, McCree is already standing some distance away from them, breathing slow and steady enough for Genji to see the deep rise and fall of his chest. He stares up at what’s left of the Tower, and Genji catches the way McCree’s gaze burns like the flames engulfing the City.

It looks very distant from the warm radiance of solar energy Genji is used to feeling, but maybe it is only because McCree’s Light is nearly drained. Now all that is left is anger.

McCree exhales slow, and for a moment it seems louder than the approaching Cabal.

“Smells like Mars,” he murmurs, almost to himself. This cannot be allowed. Not on Earth. And then with a grim smile, he says, “Starting to look like Mars, too.”

Some absurd part of Genji wants to stop him, but he knows the way McCree likes to stare out into the cold mountains, or breathe in deep the air on the Tower and linger in wilderness during patrols. There won’t be any other alternative if Earth falls, not for McCree, and he wants to fight for it with every last fiber of his being.

“I’ll buy you some time,” McCree says, flourishing his revolver. “But I’ll have you know, I do intend to come back, like I’ve always have.”

“Good. I will not be wearing your cloak if I find it in some burning heap,” Genji says, tugging at the hum of his hood, thumb pressing into that off-colored red patch of mismatched fabric.

And it’s nearly the same instinct for Genji, only turned around for a different set of reasons; he has Zenyatta-8, evacuating the citizens down below, and Angela, so intelligent and driven, to find safer places. It’s running and hiding, but when it comes down to it, he doesn’t care much for the Vanguard or the Tower—and so this is how he knows, without a doubt, that their paths will diverge at the very moment.

Genji spares McCree one last glance, and McCree looks back at him, hard expression flickering into something quieter and less angry when he catches Genji looking.

“You know how it is. Wouldn’t want you to wear my cloak either,” McCree scoffs, but it sounds like a promise.

The Cabal start to show up through the corridors. Angela tugs at Genji’s arm once before drawing her gun. She looks at McCree, frowning, but she seems to know just as well that McCree intends to leave them.

“Find us,” she tells McCree, voice echoing as both she and Genji start to run.

McCree aims his gun.

And, for a moment, there’s finally sunlight.


	2. Ghost Fragment: Genji-0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji-0 enters the Infinite forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Reality is the finest flesh, oh bearer mine. And are you not…hungry?"_  
>  -[Skull of Dire Ahamkara](https://db.destinytracker.com/d2/ru/items/2523259394-skull-of-dire-ahamkara)

TYPE: Patient Assessment  
DESCRIPTION: Conversation  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Warlock [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2]  
ASSOCIATIONS: [Deep Stone Crypt](http://www.ishtar-collective.net/categories/deep-stone-crypt?highlight=deep+stone), Anomaly; Exo; Genji-1; ODeorain, Moira; Zeigler, Angela

//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//  
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.1:01] I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I find it curious that you only talk to me about this and not Zeigler. Why is that?  
[u.2:01] I believe her academic ambitions differ from yours. She has never asked, and she isn’t as insensitive as you are. Did you want to know about the dreams or not?  
[u.1:02] You call them dreams, not nightmares?  
[u.2:02] A nightmare implies fear.  
[u.1:03] Are you not disturbed?  
[u.2:03] The things I do in my dreams, I already do when I am awake. Let me ask you a question this time around, Warlock; is it my lack of fear that troubles you?

 

* * *

 

“I want the Vex to show me a simulation.”

Genji stands at the bottom of the steps leading into the Infinite Forest. Up higher, Tracer’s cloak flutters in the blistering Mercury breeze, waving along with the torn banners and flags strung along the Vex ruins. She lifts a foot to walk closer, but in the next second she appears in front of Genji, her foot setting down on the dusty stone as if she had only taken a single step. Genji’s systems flashes an alert, startled, but he keeps still. His ghost’s data relays that she hasn’t moved—has been in front of him the entire time.

“Don’t think that’s a smart idea,” she says, form shimmering. It’s not from the heat or the sun that takes up all of the sky above them. Her chestplate glows, stabilizing her into the correct dimension.

Genji almost misses what she says next, but an overriding memory slots itself into his head, filling in the gaps of lost time, or perhaps a lost reality.

Tracer tells him, “It’s dangerous. I think you already know that. Winston doesn’t want you to go.”

Genji knows she has seen other universes. Why she likes staying in this one, he can’t guess. Perhaps her time stuck in the Vault of Glass has shown her things. Tracer doesn’t talk often about it but Genji can tell it’s not a subject to touch, no matter how much he wants to ask.

“Please,” he says. “I need to know something. Only the Vex can show me.”

“The forest doesn’t work that way, Genji. Trust me. Even if you survive all the simulations, it’ll show you conflicting timelines,” Tracer says, rubbing the back of her head in habit. Her glove taps against her armor, and her boot kicks up a puff of dust. “Might do you more harm than good, you know?”

“But all realities simulated will hold some truth. Otherwise, what basis would a simulation have?”

“Because the Vex design these simulations to kill us, you absolute _dunce_ ,” Tracer groans. She puts her hands on her hips, head hanging for a moment before lifting up to glare at Genji through her visor. “At least take someone with you. Me, even.”

Genji shakes his head. He hopes in all his alternate timelines, he knows the worth of her offer. “And then who would keep Winston company?”

“Aw, the big guy will come save us when we inevitably fuck it up and need a rescue, yeah?”

“All the more reason for you to not come. Then I can have two people come to rescue me.”

Tracer’s helmet tips to the side. Her cloak has stopped fluttering despite the wind still blowing. It raises static in the air, but such a small inconsistency isn’t enough to set her adrift into another universe.

“I think you underestimate the number of people who care for you,” she says, reaching out to touch Genji’s arm. The grin in her voice is loud through the voicelink. “In all the realities I’ve seen, you would be missed.”

Her touch feels familiar, not at all like bumping his sensors against another person. For a moment, he feels his skin brushing against hers. Maybe they had been friends in an alternate time when Genji had stayed human. But just as she drops her hand, the memory fades again, and all that’s left is his armor tapping under her gloves. He feels nothing.

“If what you say is true,” Genji says, “Then in all realities, I have left.”

Tracer sighs, and Genji can imagine her cheeks puffing out. Her hand drops with a rueful thump against her side. “You got me there.”

“Let me through,” he says, one more time.

Tracer disappears, winking out of existence, and the forest path clears.

 

* * *

 

 **> > Cloak of Ahamkara Scales**   
ARMOR TYPE: Hunter Class

> _“Do you know that Exos dream, brother? We all dream of the same place; a black field with a tower in the middle, where all we do is kill, and kill, and kill as we climb the steps. To what end, I do not know, but the things we kill are always the people I have seen or met. Everyone dies by my hand—friends, allies, enemies, strangers. I feel nothing until I wake up._
> 
> _And, o brother mine, I used to wake up very angry that I’ve never dreamt of you.”_

 

* * *

 

The Infinite Forest is not what Genji expects. He has heard stories from other guardians—hunters who cannot resist the challenge, warlocks too curious for their own good, and then the titans who come to inevitably rescue them. An overcast sky makes it look like the forest itself has ceiling, though it is far too high for Genji to discern if there is an actual barrier. When he looks down from his floating platform, all he sees are clouds, misty and rolling beneath everything. There is no ground. He knows if he falls, he will fall for eternity until he kills himself to be resurrected again.

The forest is not a forest of trees, though Genji can see simulated greenery dotting some of the other platforms around him. There is grass and flowers with petals that deconstruct into white lined grids if he steps too hard on them. The Vex simulations are far from perfect. As he jumps through each gate, he catches incomplete constructs—square stones with missing textures, flat walkways that fade out of existence if touched, enemies who pace around in aimless circles, making them easy to shoot down.

There are no trees in the Infinite Forest, but there are spiraling towers to climb. Genji dashes up the steps, leaps over floating stones, climbs to the top to find more towers. He doesn’t stop moving, impatient to reach his destination.

The destination isn’t a place. It’s only a situation, a scenario Genjo wants to provoke out of them. He doesn’t know how long he will need to run, but the Vex should already have data on him, even before he had entered the forest. Now that he is in their domain, their collective attention starts to narrow on him—though, in the whole of the universe, he is only an insignificant blip on their single consciousness.

But he’s here. The fabricated Fallen and Hive and Cabal start to notice him, all of them set to prod for his weaknesses.

Genji cuts them down easily, steel thrumming in his hands and through his circuits. His arc light is brilliant, unwavering through it all. He cannot tire, not with enemies like these.

His ghost signals him to move on. A waypoint flashes in at the corner of his HUD, the sounds of a faraway battle faint in the air. Genji attempts to get a closer look, swapping his sword for a rifle, but the scope doesn’t no good through walls. He leaps forward and sprints.

Two more platforms and then he is inside a twisting tower with a staircase. Genji peers down the side of the steps, scoffs as his ghost chirps a warning, and simply jumps.

His shields flare red when he lands at the bottom. It takes a moment to restabilize his armor, but in front of him there is a locked gate, framed by two thin pillars and an opaque barrier.

Genji slams his fist over the middle port, set into the barrier like a decorative stone. The barrier shimmers, flashing white.

The Vex materialize around him.

Genji turns to face them, impatient. His ghost scans the area for the daemon guarding the gate, but none of the appearing Vex seem powerful enough. They are numerous, however, and Genji cannot ignore them.

He summons light into his hands, arc energy shaping itself into a sword. The Vex fall easily under his blade, mechanical bodies shrieking and breaking into scrap.

Somehow, he loses track of time. The light of his sword dims down as his energy depletes back to normal. Eventually, his hands are empty, sparks of arc crackling into nothing.

Still, the Vex come, materializing into the tower in a static cloud. Genji tilts his head, considering, and pulls out his pulse rifle. From the corner of his vision, he sees a dark blur of blue, cloak flying, and then a violet flash so bright it looks like a streak of night stars in the air. He turns, all his systems on alert.

Time slows. The arrow of stars bursts in front of Genji, a wave void energy washing over him.

There’s no pain or damage. The arrow had not been aimed at him, but Genji still freezes in place as if he’s been tethered himself. A roar deafens his auditory sensors.

When the smoke and light clears, all the Vex are dead—and up high on the ledge, the Nightstalker stares down at Genji. The bow in their hands glitters for a moment before turning black, swallowing back its light until it eats itself into nothingness again.

“So foolish of you to have brought me here,” says the Nightstalker, throwing back the hood of his cloak. “And now the Vex will surely use this meeting against you.”

The Nightstalker’s helmet disappears, his own ghost scanning it away, and Hanzo jumps down to meet him.

Genji no longer breathes, but he is reminded of how it could feel, air stuck in his lungs, turning against him to choke back words he wants to say. Instead, his voice modular stutters, processing output slowing to a cruel minimum, and Genji could see the diagnostics clearly in his HUD, every function of him _wanting_ to shut down.

But he is a war machine, built to withstand decades of battles, and he is a Guardian, resurrected from death to do the same under a different banner.

It’s a soft reset—a metaphorical breath to steady himself—his diagnostics tell him that he is fine. Genji stands his ground, watching as Hanzo lands in front of him, steps airy and light.

He had thought to see Hanzo as he last remembered him, a young man with an unforgiving look in his eyes, the dark cloak of the Shimada emblem glimmering gold and proud, bright sword in his hand.

Instead, the Vex show Hanzo as someone Genji has never seen before—older, long hair cut shorter and shot with gray. He carries no sword, and his cloak is faded and tattered, emblem ripped away.

They have calculated this image of Hanzo, pieced together by data and history, of Genji’s memories and their omnipresent knowledge of alternate realities. He is a simulation, but already Genji feels as if the Vex would be more truthful in their portrayal than what he remembers.

“Did it not occur to you that I have fought against Vex as well? They know me,” Hanzo says.

His gaze is as disapproving as ever, but it’s enough to convey that his opinion of Genji hasn’t changed either, that his brother remains self-centered and selfish, always unthinking of the future until it’s too late.

Genji doesn’t reply, still too stubborn and hurt, yet sick with the gnawing hunger to look for answers, for an explanation or an excuse. He wants a reason to stay anger—because there is very little left in him but that bitterness.

Hanzo sighs. “What do you want, Genji?”

The Infinite Forest had led him here. Genji knows the risk, that the Vex is showing him this simulation to gather data, analyze both him and Hanzo. They will take this moment between them and run more scenarios and possibilities—like what would happen if Hanzo attacks first, or if Genji draws his sword without saying anything, or if Genji had truly died all those years ago, and it would have been only Hanzo, talking to a reflection.

“I have some questions,” Genji says.

“And you thought it was best for me to answer them here?”

Genji ignores Hanzo’s exasperated tone. He starts to pace, circling around in his restlessness. “Do the dragons still whisper to you, brother?”

Hanzo’s mouth draws into a thin line. He hadn’t liked the way Genji calls him _brother_ , and the gesture is so human, so real—Genji inwardly recoils at how perfect the Vex have captured him.

“You think I was under the influence of the Ahamkara when I killed you,” Hanzo eventually says, voice measured, but there is a faint note of surprise. His eyes follow Genji’s every step, wary.

It hurts. Genji feels the weight of his cloak sway over his shoulders, interwoven scales scratching against his armor.

“I suppose you were always too cautious to fall prey to a wish-dragon,” Genji says bitterly. “So was it kindness to leave me with my memories intact?”

There is a split second of silence. Hanzo opens his mouth to answer, and the words pixelate, scrambling into white noise. Genji thinks he can hear it, but it goes through his authority sensors like erratic feedback.

So even the Vex do not know, or perhaps the dead Ahamkara can still have a lingering hold over reality.

Hanzo continues to speak as if nothing had happened. “You overestimate my desire to have you dead. I would have wiped your mind to spare you.”

Genji’s hands clench at his sides. “So why didn’t you?”

Hanzo pauses. He has been only standing in place thus far, but now his stance shifts. “Your cloak. You have gotten rid of the silver.”

Genji stops pacing.

Now there is realization dawning in Hanzo’s eyes, but it means very little when he is only a simulation.

“Being reborn a Guardian is the cruelest form of living,” Hanzo says, quiet and unmoving as Genji draws his sword, “And I would have not wished it upon you.”

There is laughter in the air, and it takes a moment for Genji to realize it is his own.

“So what would it mean to you, o brother mine, when I had wished it upon myself?” he asks, driving his sword through Hanzo’s static form.

It’s another question the Vex cannot make Hanzo answer. Hanzo stares at Genji, mouth curling into the same bitter smile before he disappears.

“Daemon eliminated,” Genji’s ghost confirms, voice louder than any dragon’s whisper.

In him, the dragon tries claw its way back to reality, but Genji stamps it down, vicious and brutal.

The gate opens, Mercury shining bright on the other side.

 

* * *

 

 **> > RYŪ ICHIMONJI  
**WEAPON TYPE: Sword

> _Not many people know about the other Shimada crest. You might know the one with the twin dragons, devouring each other in an endless circle. Have you heard of the other? Probably not. It’s all Golden Age stuff. Ancient history, just a footnote in the archives. A dragon falling upon its own sword signifies disgrace. Perhaps it was meant to be forgotten._
> 
> _But no one ever bothers to ask the dragon, do they?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:  
> \- Ghost Fragment: Legends: [Deep Stone Crypt](http://www.ishtar-collective.net/cards/ghost-fragment-legends#deep-stone-crypt)  
> \- [Ahamkara](http://www.ishtar-collective.net/categories/ahamkara): Dragons known to make promises, which lead to a great hunt and their extinction.  
> \- Silver plating to Ahamkara armor is said to diminish auditory hallucinations, [though that is up for debate](http://destiny.wikia.com/wiki/Sealed_Ahamkara_Grasps).


End file.
